Monday, 23 July 2012

EPISODE 64: IN WHICH THE AUTHOR SPEAKS TO HIS MIND AND WATCHES SOME SPORT.


Welcome to my blog which would be churlish not to acknowledge the sun for shining, the clouds for lifting and the jet stream for shifting north. Long may this continue?

Near the beginning of this novel/blog, I introduced an alter ego called Jack Heston who was, for want of a better word, American in character. (This is because being British and being super positive just don’t seem to go well together.) His job was to demand action and to create results. Looking back over the episodes, one would see that Jack hasn’t had much of a say. Probably this is because I’d only dig him out when I was quite desperate with myself. Mostly I’ve managed to muddle on without too much desperation though this period, as I indicated at the end of last week’s entry, has now come to an end. What I have realized now, however, is that it is too late to indulge in an occasional alter ego and that Jack and John must become one if the goal is to be accomplished.

Surprisingly, I did pick ten useful affirmations and turn them into primaries. When I saw that the first one I had chosen was, ‘I love to work’, my initial reaction was to consider rearranging the list because I couldn’t recall choosing ‘I love to work’ to be on it. As soon as I spoke it out, the resistances began. It seemed impossible that I could straight-faced say ‘I love to work’ when it has been a constant mantra of mine, that work is what slaves do. 

The exercise takes persistence, so I persisted. For some twenty minutes I was stuck. Then my mind came up with a twist. Instead of conceptualising work as an effort you have to make when you don’t really want to, my mind decided to think of ‘I love to work’ as I love to function properly. In other words I don’t want to be broken, I want to work. Suddenly the primary was created. ‘I love to work’ became true.

Now, one might think that changing the meaning of the words in your mind is not the same as creating the primary you started off working with. In this case, there are two reasons why this is not a form of avoidance. First; the book I took the words from didn’t define ‘work’. Secondly; someone who knows me said ‘but you do work a lot, you’re always doing something.’ Which is more or less true? It is ‘going to work’ I don’t like. Thirdly; after creating the primary, I worked bloody hard (for me) during a lot of the rest of the week and even made myself do 95% of the things I was tempted to procrastinate over. 

The ten primaries included the one above, the four I mentioned last week and four others; viz

The quality of my work increases every day,
I am receiving right now.
My work is satisfying to me.
Any task that there is to do is worthy of my full attention.

These I swept through without initial resistance although looking at them now, I’m inclined to think that the quality of my work increased for one day then slipped back to seeming untrue. The same may apply to the satisfaction. The last one hasn’t been so much an affirmation as a reminder. An eleventh primary which I rejected because it just wasn’t me was this one: I am willing to know what I want; I am willing to ask for it; and I am willing to receive more than I ask for’. On Friday, however, I was worrying about money for my event and I noticed that on one of my many lists was the instruction to myself; Write begging letters. So far, I have backed off writing to people asking for money because it feels tacky but I’ve reached a point where I can’t afford to be proud and can’t rely on wishful thinking either. This week, therefore, I will take this eleventh commandment and make it true.

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I’ve been away for the weekend – hence an early Monday morning madly trying to find my 1,000 words for this. Saturday was the first sunny day of the year and it happened to be my brother’s fortieth wedding anniversary. He has had, maybe still has, cancer. Because of recent experiences of turning up to see dying people too late, my children have become a little paranoid about not visiting the sick in time to say (mentally) their goodbyes and, in the Indian sense of things, to have a final darshan (seeing).  I had been disinclined to go myself but on the promptings of my youngest, I did so. 

Being with two sisters and a brother, none of whom I’ve been particularly close to in my life, is quite a strange experience when we are all in our sixties. Three of us are grandparents and my brother would love to be. I like my kids to know their kids although when I’m gone I don’t suppose they’ll meet much. My brother is clearly not the man he was at this point. It reminded me that when we were kids, he used to beat me at games and outplay me at cricket till one day it dawned me that I’d reached a point where I could beat him. However, rather than this be satisfying, I felt mortified. Throughout our lives, my brother has done the sensible thing and I’ve done the opposite. I’ve never known what he felt about me but now whenever I look towards him I see that he is gazing fondly at me and I look away without catching his eye because I don’t know how to respond.

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Yesterday I went with my youngest son to watch the test cricket in London between England and South Africa.  It was the fourth day of the match. Last time I saw a test match in England was at the same ground against the same country in 1965. When you’ve paid £70, as we did yesterday, you want to see the best. And we did. Hashim Amla of South Africa scored over 300 runs and Kallis, one of the best players ever, scored 182. South Africa finished on 637 for 2 and then declared. Two hours later, England was on 100 for 4 and was all but beaten. My son and I got to see the great Kevin Peterson bat. In fact he didn’t do very well but I felt chuffed that I’d seen him live. Last year, again because of my youngest I saw Federer play tennis. I’ve been racking my brains but can’t think of any other sportsmen that I now feel the need to see. (Sorry Olympics but you just don’t float my boat.)

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I arrived back home from London at about one in the morning. It is a three hour journey so I planned a halfway cup of tea break at a roadside garage. But no. The cafes shut at 9.30pm. ‘Tiredness kills,’ say the signs above the motorway, ‘take a break’. 

At this time of year, the traffic usually forms a 15 mile jam of west country bound tourists just by Stonehenge where the road becomes single carriageway. At midnight however, the henge was quiet and a giant new moon hung over it casually. Quite awesome, even at 70 mph.

When I got home I was knackered but I was aware that my blog was unwritten and the challenge I had set myself to produce it on Mondays was in danger of being failed.

So I wrote the first sentence and ended up here. Maybe I do love to work.


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